


Saturday Afternoon

by gracediamondsfear



Category: Warrior (2011)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Prostitution, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracediamondsfear/pseuds/gracediamondsfear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy Conlon hires a hooker after his confrontation with Brendan at Sparta...he's angry and horny and crabby...just how we like him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Poppy in the Lobby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my tumblr ladies](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+tumblr+ladies).



Poppy makes up stories to pass the time.  She sits in the bar of the Trump Casino drinking a Tonic water with lime and tries to imagine what everyone is doing there and where they came from.  Of course this weekend is easy.  Half a million roided out muscleheads and their fake titty girlfriends are milling around the boardwalk for Sparta.  She doesn't know anything about MMA but some of the guys just have an "aura" about them that lets her know they're actually in the tournament.  Better haircuts, more expensive looking suits, some of them even have an entourage following them around.

They aren't her type.

But their money is, so she got up early.

She's been arrested at Trump twice in the past month because she's new in town, new in the business and she doesn't know yet who she has to befriend, how to fly under the radar, how to get scolded with a wink and not thrown in the back of a cop car.  Today she isn't worried about it.  It's Saturday morning after the first round of the fights.  No one is looking to get laid when there's a breakfast buffet down the hall.

A guy with rumpled dark hair and a childlike pout sits down at the end of the bar and asks for a Diet Coke.  Poppy thinks he just lost his last hundred on three card poker and now he's just passing the time until his friends wake up and they can go watch the rest of the fights.  She can see tattoos through his white t-shirt, but he doesn't have enough wax and gel in his hair to be from Jersey.

A woman from the reception desk approaches, her heels clicking loud over the tile floor.

"Mr. Riordan?"

"Yeah. Tommy."

"Mr. Riordan, your trainer asked me to give you a message," she said, handing him a folded piece of paper.  Poppy could see the woman's cheeks flushing pink.  She liked Mr. Riordan. Probably getting a little panty splash just looking at him.

"My trainer, eh?"

Poppy watches him read it, bark out a little laugh and crumple up the note before throwing it over his shoulder.

"Thanks," he says to the girl in the maroon suit who wants him to kiss her. "Can you give him a message back?  Can you tell him to shove his breakfast with Brendan up his ass?  Thanks."

Poppy can't hide her laughter then and Tommy looks her way before she can stop smiling.  He throws her a wide smile in return and it changes his whole face, his whole being.  She's not imagining it, his eyes are actually twinkling.  Before she gets up the nerve to say hi, Tommy gets up and leaves.

Damn, she thinks.  He would have been fun.

He appears at her side a few minutes later, hands deep in the pockets of his low slung jeans, a toothpick resting in the corner of his mouth, bobbing around when he talks.

"What's your name, giggles?" he says, crossing his arms over his chest.  He stands with his legs wide apart, he takes up space.  He takes control of the situation.

"Poppy," she says, doing her best to sound seductive in one word.  It feels dirty when the sun is up.

"Like the flower?" he asks.

"No, like the bagel," she says, rolling her eyes.

He laughs again and she smiles.  His lips are so full and rosy pink, suckable.  She wants to taste them.  She wants to feel that stubble on her thighs.  Thinking about it makes her cross her legs a little tighter.  Tommy makes no effort to hide the way he's looking her over - her low cut top with a hint of the lace of her bra showing, her tight faded jeans and impossibly high heels.  He nods once he's gotten the whole picture and leans in towards her ear.

"Are you working today, Pretty Woman?" he says, and she pulls away, startled at having been made so easily.  She didn't think she looked that trashy.  However her rent didn't give her the luxury of slapping him and storming off.  Neither does her libido.

"Maybe.  Maybe I'll just go take the afternoon off, take a hot bath."

"Maybe I could help?" He said, flicking his toothpick like a lure. Without another word he took his room key out of his pocket and put it on the bar. "Why don't you come up in a few minutes and we can pass the time until my next fight?"

He put one hand on the small of her back and kissed her chastely on the cheek.

Poppy watched his broad back and tight ass walk towards the elevators and licked her lips. She'd fuck that for free.


	2. Upstairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explicit sex.

Tommy answers the door in his jeans.  Just his jeans, and even they are unzipped and unbuttoned.  His hair is wet and she can smell soap, the shampoo the hotel gives out in teeny gold colored bottles.  He showered for her.  It’s touching.  He’s obviously not accustomed to entertaining whores. 

“Come on in, Giggles,” he says, shuffling away, leaving her in the hall.  His torso is covered in tattoos, names and numbers, swirling designs…like a puzzle of who he is.

“You must be some kind of big shot staying in one of the suites up here,” she says, sitting on the couch.  Even after six months, it’s these first few minutes that make her a bit nervous.  You never know what you’re getting into, and while she’s good at sex, she’s not good at the small talk that comes before it. “How did you know I was a hooker?”

Tommy sits down backwards on the desk chair and rests his chin on his balled up fists.

“I didn’t,” he says, smiling. “But if you weren’t, I’d have just gotten slapped and moved on to someone else.”

He looks her over again in that sort of predatory animal way that made her shiver down in the bar.  If he’s waiting for her to do something she’s not sure what it is. 

“Where you from?” He asks, still staring at her crossed legs, her foot bobbing with the black stiletto heel hanging from her toes. 

She tilts her head to the side and smiles. “I’m from Heaven baby.” 

“Oh Jesus Christ,” he says, leaning back and laughing. “Heaven,” he repeats.

“I’m from Buffalo.”

He has nothing to offer after that and she knows he won’t answer anything she asks him. They never want to tell you anything about themselves.  And no one wants to talk about Buffalo.

“Are you nervous Tommy?” She asks, taking both of her shoes off and placing them on the floor next to her purse. “Maybe feeling guilty?” 

He looks up at her with his brow furrowed, “Fuck no.” 

 

His eyes go dark then, like the whole atmosphere has changed.  For a minute it scares her, but when he mashes his lips together and licks them, she realizes it’s just lust.

“So you’ll do anything?” he asks, walking over to sit beside her on the couch. She nods, tracing one of the tattoos on his arm with her pinky.  “I’m in charge then, yeah?  You do what I tell you, yeah?” His skin is still hot from the shower.  Hot and damp, and underneath it’s rock hard muscle.  "'Cuz for the next few hours I own you." She nods again, thanking God she found a guy who knows what he wants.  He leans in close to her ear and says “Then get up.”

She stands in front of him and he reclines a bit on the couch, his hands folded behind his head.

“You get undressed, right here.  Then go over to the fridge and get me a beer.  Open it and bring it back to me and I’ll drink it while you suck my cock. And take your time, I can’t wait to see those tits.  Got it?” 

She’s got it.  She knows how to strip slowly, to slip the straps of her bra down her arms and let it fall off of her full, heavy breasts, how to bend at the waist when she pulls down her panties so he can see the glistening pink pussy between her long, lean legs.  He says nothing the whole time she undresses, but his eyes are intense.  He said he wanted to see her tits but he won’t stop staring into her eyes.  It makes her mouth go dry.  She gets the beer and pops off the cap, then rolls the cold bottle over her nipples as she walks towards him.  Before giving him the drink she twirls her tongue around the top of the bottle and takes a sip.  He puts his hand on the back of her neck and pulls her to his lips, kissing her hard, massaging the bone at the top of her spine, his tongue slick and hot over hers, tasting like whiskey at ten o’clock in the morning.  He sucks on her bottom lip when he pulls away.

“On your knees kitten, let’s see what you can do.”

She pulls the jeans down over his hips and he groans as she bends down to take him into her mouth, the whole length of his thick, hard cock, sliding down the back of her throat.  He tangles his fingers into her hair and holds tight to it while she pulls back to lick and kiss the head of his prick, to drag her tongue over the length of it while he hisses air through his teeth, bucking his hips against her mouth.

“Slow down,” he says. “We got all day, baby, and I need to get in that pussy before long.”

While she sucks him off she reaches down between her own legs and rubs her fingers over her slick lips, dipping two fingers inside, flicking over her clit.  Tommy stops and pushes her away.

“Did I tell you to do that?” he says. “You don’t do that unless I can see it.”

 He easily picks her up by the waist and puts her on the coffee table in front of him, spreading her legs, resting her feet on either side of the couch.

  
“Now you can fuck yourself with your fingers, and get it nice and wet for me.”

He strokes his dick while she does it, and every time she tries to look away from him, tries to break his gaze or close her eyes, he calls her on it and tells her to look right at him, to watch him, to look him in the eye.  When she starts to feel the heat building, the wave of warmth from the back of her neck down to where her fingers work, he pushes her hand away and starts to lick her.  He holds her legs wide and sucks her clit between his lips, flicking it with his tongue.  Her thighs start to tremble as he works slower and deeper, his tongue finding every spot, his thick fingers holding her open while she grips the sides of the table.  He’s different, she thinks.  He wants me to come first. 

She pulls him away by the hair and crushes her lips against his, the warm, salty musk of her own juices fueling their kiss.  When she stops to breathe, she all but begs him.

“Fuck me, Tommy.  I need you to fuck me.”

Again he picks her up and she wraps her legs around him as he cups her ass in both of his hands, his pinky tickling at the wetness between her spread legs.  He kisses her hard and she loves the feeling of her hands in his wet hair.

“Let’s get more comfortable first, baby,” he says, and he takes her to the bedroom.

 


	3. More Comfortable

Tommy carried her into the bedroom and let her fall back onto the bed.  She propped herself up on her elbows and smiled, anxious to feel him on top of her, his hairy chest pressed against hers, his thighs spreading her legs open, the strength of his arms holding her down.  But Tommy just smiled back at her and did a little twirling motion with his finger.

"On your tummy girl.  Show me that ass."

Poppy flipped over and pulled a thick white pillow under her chest to rest on.  Tommy didn't wait for her to get settled, just pulled at her thighs to get her ass high in the air, legs spread.  Then he made her wait.  He kissed the backs of her knees, the tops of her thighs.  When she whined and tried to push back against him he slapped her ass hard, laughing at the little whimper that escaped.  

"Be still," he said, his lips against her skin.  

She rested her cheek on the pillow and he leaned forward to lick at the dripping wet pussy she presented to him, tickling at her asshole with his thumb while his tongue dipped deep inside her, then dragged over her clit, sucking it into his mouth to flick at it with his tongue.

"Oh fuck," she muttered into the pillow, grabbing at the sheets with clenched fists.  

Finally he settled behind her and drove himself inside slowly, but to the hilt, holding tight to her hips, pulling her back against him. She shuddered at the feeling of him filling her, his hot breath on the back of her neck as he started thrusting.  He hammered into her harder and faster, one hand on the small of her back, one holding firm to the back of her neck, keeping her head down.  She heard him groaning, growling. 

"Your pussy's pretty tight for a whore, babydoll," he said, his words breathy and strained.  "Are you going to come for me, baby?  I want to hear you screaming for me.  I want the whole hotel to hear it."

"Yes, oh god.  Please make me come."

He continued to fuck her, deep and hard, his rhythm fast, heat radiating from his body.  She felt sweat gathering on the back of her neck, dripping down from her temples.  He reached beneath her and rolled her clit between his fingers.  She began to tremble, pushing back against him as fast as he thrust forward.  Her own groans of pleasure as deep and primal as his.  Just as she approached the the edge of oblivion, Tommy pulled out and flipped her onto her back.  

Poppy tried to sit up, to mount him, to kiss him, to pull him back inside, but he only laughed and pushed her back down with one hand, his chest heaving with breath.

"Horny bitch," he said, holding her legs apart.  "Look how wet you are." He tickled at the lips between her legs and she whimpered, pushing back against his hand.  He slapped the inside of her thigh. "Lay still."

"Oh please Tommy, please.  I need to come."

He stroked his cock, thick and hard, shiny from her own juices.  She tried to squeeze her legs together but he knelt between them, not letting her find relief.  When she tried to reach up to his face he pinned her arms down above her head.  He crouched over her, rubbing the head of his prick against her aching opening.  

"What do you need?" He said, looking into her eyes.

"I need you to let me come, please."

"What do you need?" He asked again, unhappy with her answer.  He pulled away slightly and she got the hint.

"I need your cock Tommy. Please. Fuck me with your cock, please.  Make me come."

Still holding her hands above her head, pushing her back against the pillows, Tommy thrust into her as deep as he could and began hammering at her again, her legs wide, her heels digging into his back.  He kissed her hard, his tongue hot, twisting with hers as he moaned into her mouth.  She could tell by his rhythm that he was about to blow.  He stopped kissing, stopped thrusting.  He put his lips against her ear,

"Beg me to fuck you harder, whore.  Beg me."

"Please Tommy, please fuck me.  Fuck me harder. I need you to make me come. Please."  

He let go of her hands and she wrapped herself around him, unwilling to let him loose until she was satisfied.  She dug her fingernails into his back and he growled.  She started to whine as the white light of orgasm began to build.  Bucking her hips up against him, she felt her muscles clench around his thick rod pistoning at a frantic pace.  

He held her face in his hands and kissed her again. "You say my name when you come.  Say it."

"Fuck Tommy.  Oh God."

"Thank me," he managed before one last drive inside.  He stiffened above her, his mouth a silent growl, eyes fluttering. 

Poppy rolled her hips against him while her own climax faded, not wanting to let him pull out.  Not wanting to let him go.  She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, tangling her fingers into his damp brown hair, and pulled his lips down to hers.  He was still trembling as they kissed and she said,

"Thank you Mr. Riordan.  Thank you so much," before devouring his mouth once again.

He collapsed, limp across her chest and she held him in her arms, tickling his back with her nails.  He didn't pull out, didn't move, but after a minute she heard him sniffling.

"Tommy?" She said, slipping out from underneath him. "Tommy, are you OK?"

When he turned onto his side to face her, his eyes were red with tears, his bottom lip trembling like a child.  She wiped the tears from his cheek and pulled him onto her naked chest, running her fingers through his hair.  He pulled the blanket up around both of them and clung to her while he cried...not saying a word, not giving a hint of explanation.  He wasn't ok.  

How strange, Poppy thought.  What would a big strong guy like this have to cry about?

 

 


	4. Contentment

It was when she wrapped her legs around him that it happened.  When she clung to him as they came, crying out his name, her chest pressed against his, that he realized how lonely he was.  It wasn't even just sex that he'd been missing, but skin on skin, someone touching him, someone holding him, someone pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.  It was then that he could feel the panic, his nose stinging, his eyes blurring with tears.  So as soon as he pulled out he turned onto his side to compose himself, to take a few deep breaths and stop the tears, hoping she'd get up to clean herself up or go to the bathroom or leave or ask him for money or anything.

Instead she heard him.

"Tommy?  Tommy, are you ok?" She touched his shoulder to roll him onto his back and smiled. "Was I that bad?"

He sniffed one last time and smiled back at her, brushing her hair back behind her ear before pulling her face down to his for a kiss, deep and slow, different from how he'd devoured her before.  She mewled with appreciation when his warm tongue slipped through her lips and she brought one hand up to hold his cheek.  He felt his throat tighten again, his eyes sting, and he pulled away.

"You know, I've fucked guys who just want a quick three pumps over the bathroom sink and then they just lay there and bitch about their wives for two hours.  That's one of the hidden perks of hookers.  We just shut up and listen."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to talk."

And that was probably half of his problem, but at that moment he didn't care.  His heart and his brain were so full that if he opened his mouth for even a word, he'd end up telling her everything.  Not only about Manny and deserting, but about fighting and abuse.  About mom and Brendan and Paddy.  

"Well you're very good at the other thing.  We could do that again," she said, her hand wandering down between his legs.  

Tommy smiled and pushed her onto her back so he could rest his head on her stomach, his fingers tickling up and down the insides of her legs, over the tangle of hair between them.  The rhthym of her heartbeat was soothing and he felt drowsy.  

"I just want to be quiet.  Just for a while," he said.  

Poppy didn't respond, but after a moment he felt her fingers running over his scalp.  He closed his eyes and breathed deep, feeling his own heartbeat slow, his muscles loosen.  A tear fell from the corner of his eye onto her skin and she started to hum.  He couldn't quite place the song, but he'd heard it before when he was younger.  Not quite a lullaby, but something comforting and simple.  

"People are so afraid of touch anymore," she said quietly, scratching his back, tracing his tattoos. "But without it, we lose our sense of who we are.  Our connection to other humans."

"You should have seen the guy I touched last night," he said, turning over onto his back to look her in the eye.

She pulled a hunk of his hair in reprimand, but kept her hands on him, her fingertips tracing the outlines of his features, his full, soft lips, his furrowed brow, the scar that ran through his eyebrow.

"Gentle touch.  Friendly touch.  Loving touch.  People are even afraid to shake hands today because of germs or being afraid of strangers or whatever bullshit keeps people in their own sterile bubble.  In a way, I provide a service," she said, her hand on his chest. "I keep people feeling human." She leaned down, letting her hair tickle his belly, then kissed each of his eyelids, his nose, his closed lips.  Then she whispered "Don't be ashamed of crying, Tommy.  Not ever."

She pulled herself out from under him and he watched her walk towards the bathroom, entirely comfortable in her own skin.  He felt himself wanting her again already, to bury his face between her legs, to push her against the window and take her from behind, to feel her legs wrapped around him again.  To hear her whining his name.  Instead he heard water running.

"Come on Mr. Riordan," she called. "Poppy will make you feel better."

He smiled to himself and got out of bed, shuffling to the bathroom where Poppy was filling the bath with bubbles, sitting on the edge of the tub with her legs spread wide, curling her finger at him to draw him towards her. 

The room filled with flower scented steam as he stood in front of her, letting her drag her tongue over his rapidly stiffening cock.  His knees were weak but he tangled both hands into her hair, holding her close to him as she hummed against him, her hands expert at tickling the base of the shaft and massaging his balls until he felt dizzy and lightheaded.  She pulled away and then took the length of him down her throat, grabbing his ass tight with both of her hands to let him fuck her mouth, animalistic growls escaping his lips with each thrust down her throat.  Before he could come he pulled her up and bent her forward over the bathroom sink, holding her hair tight in his fist, kicking her legs open with one of his feet and sinking into her wetness with one deep stroke.  Before beginning his thrusts he bent over and bit her earlobe playfully saying,

"I promise to last more than three pumps for you, baby."

He held tight to her hips and pushed deep into her while she thrust back against him, whining and bucking with pleasure, fingering her clit to bring herself close. When he felt the finish building, he covered her hand with his own rolling the slick hard bead between their fingertips while she cried out his name again, pushing herself onto him as hard as she could, taking in as much of him as possible, begging him to fuck her as deep and as fast as he could.  He bucked against her with one last thrust and groaned through his orgasm before collapsing over her back, his fingers still stroking between her legs.

"Thank you," he said, kissing her between the shoulder blades.

Poppy wriggled out from underneath him and turned around to kiss him before turning off the water.

"Let's get ourselves cleaned off sweetie," she said, taking his hand.  "Then I'll tuck you in for an afternoon nap."

Nothing in Tommy's life had ever sounded better.


End file.
